At long last, she relaxed the spinning glyph around her wrist and watched him vanish into the air. The parting was familiar, but it hurt more now than she remembered. In a few short weeks on Meru she’d somehow managed to grow accustomed to his physical presence. She’d taken it for granted.
Now, she would do anything to have him back.
* * *
Fiera took breakfasts most often in her chambers now, so Vi headed there. The halls smelled of eggs and freshly cooked rice, but the only servants in sight were those who attended to bathing and dressing.
“Good morning,” Vi greeted the handmaid outside Fiera’s room. She and the two guards surrounding her all nodded. “I have a matter of grave importance to speak with our Empress about.”
“Please wait just a moment.” The handmaid held up her hands. “Cleric Joan is in with her now—she should be finished shortly.”
No sooner had the girl stopped speaking than the heavy wooden door opened and a black-eyed woman emerged. She was as gnarled as a Crone and her skin had long been leathered by the sun. Her hair had turned to white, but she looked at the world sharply. There was still strength in her steps.
“Tell the kitchens I would like her to have plain rice this morning, one sliced prickly pear, and some more of the barley tea from the East,” Joan instructed the handmaid.
“I think Jake said they have run out of the tea.”
“Then tell him to pull some out of his arse. Or use these supreme culinary skills he keeps bragging about to make something similar. These are not my demands—they come directly from our Empress.”
“Yes ma’am!” The handmaid sprinted down the hall. Joan’s attention landed on Vi.
“Fiarum Evantes, I’m—”
“No time for or interest in formalities, I know who you are. This whole city knows whoyouare,” Joan said dully. “You have a severe look on your face. Whatever it is you have to say, say it well and don’t upset her much. This pregnancy is becoming hard on her and if she keeps her stress and work up, she’s headed for a difficult labor.”
“Understood.” The cleric spoke like an officer, so Vi responded like a soldier.
Without another word, Joan left and Vi allowed herself into the royal chambers.
An entry hall opened up to a large sitting area connected to a wide balcony that stretched the length of the quarters. The Emperor and Empress sat out on the balcony, a table between them. Tiberus had draped his coat over the back of his chair. Fiera wore her hair long and unbound, her simple dress cut generously to accommodate her protruding stomach.
“Is breakfast already—” Fiera turned, her expression dimming when she realized food hadn’t arrived, then brightening again when she realized who had arrived instead. “Yullia, what a delightful surprise!”
“It is impossible for newlyweds to have a morning alone,” Tiberus grumbled, just barely loud enough for Vi to hear.
“Forgive my interruption, your highnesses. Were this not a matter of supreme importance, I wouldn’t have come so early.”
“Matters of supreme importance seem to follow you,” Tiberus said with a glance at her. He had a stack of papers Vi vaguely recognized. They were nearly identical in format to the trade and grain reports her father used to study.
“Your highness, they followyou—I am merely graced by proximity.”
“Your flattery is improving.” He didn’t even look up this time.
“Well, I do seek your indulgence.”
“In what?” Fiera asked.
“I would like a word alone with you,” Vi responded directly to her.
Fiera looked between Vi and Tiberus. “Anything you say to me, you can say to my husband.”
“Very well.” Vi couldn’t blame her. It was a stretch to separate them at this point. She knew Fiera’s primary goal was to keep peace in her growing family for the sake of all of Mhashan. Even with the Emperor’s heir growing within her, she still acted cautiously. “It’s regarding Zira,” Vi started delicately, remembering what Joan had just told her. “I’ll say foremost, she’s well.”
“All right,” Fiera said slowly, understandably confused. She turned to Tiberus but the man shrugged slightly to indicate he had no idea either. “Why wouldn’t she be?”
“Because this sunset we will go to the Cathedral of the Mother to mourn her death.”
“I don’t follow.”
